


The Weight of Things

by mmmdraco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles wakes up on the first day of spring break, his chest feels heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Things

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down to write this today, expecting to take a few days on it. Instead, I wrote 10k in a day. O_o The idea for this is kind of an homage to one of my favorite Gundam Wing fics, Boys and Girls, by Bianca & Ariana.

On the first day of spring break, Stiles wakes up with a heavy weight on his chest. It isn't unbearable. He can breathe with plenty of ease, but it's something there and different. He glances down at himself and there's nothing out of the ordinary. There's no demon sitting on his chest, no brick there that somehow came through the window overnight, nothing. There's just his shirt slightly rucked up and the blankets bundled up around his waist. 

When he sits up, the weight shifts. It's interesting and he realizes that it's not so much uncomfortable as it is just different. Sitting up makes other changes evident, though. He'd been so concerned with the weight on his chest that he hadn't noticed a lack of something else. His fingers slide into the waistband of his pants and he steels himself to look, his eyes closing in light of the lack of the morning wood he's had basically every day for the last several years. 

It's amazing that it doesn't bother him more. He pulls the neckband of his shirt forward and nods because of course that's what the weight on his chest is. Breasts. He feels like anyone else would have freaked out by now, would be running to look in the mirror. Instead, he's just glad that he's not bleeding or missing anything essential. He has a brief blip of loss for his dick, but he hadn't exactly been using it so it doesn't matter much. 

He does get up finally, but it's to go to the bathroom. When he pulls down his pants, it's a strange thing to sit down to pee. It's different, very different, but it's not as strange as werewolves and druids and being possessed by an evil fox spirit. Compared to everything else he's been through, waking up with lady bits is hardly alarming. He'll let the pack know and they'll attack it like they do everything else.

Stopping in front of the mirror, he looks at himself and it's strange to notice that he looks so much like he's expecting, just with enough small changes to make a lump form in his throat. His face is just a little softer, his Adam's apple missing, his hair now just looking boyish. His muscles have slimmed down, his hips gaining curves. He pulls his shirt off and he tilts his head to one side to look himself over. The six pack he had worked so hard on, even though it was just forming, is gone, replaced by a firm plane of stomach. His new breasts are small, but also firm. The curve of his hips makes him pull his pants down just to see. He's virtually hairless from the neck down now compared to what he had been used to, though there's still a thatch of hair crowning his pubic mound and a smattering under each arm. His legs have hair, but it's light enough that he doesn't really notice it until he actually looks down at his legs. 

He takes a deep breath and watches the way his body moves now, all of those small differences coming together. He can still recognize himself. That seems more distressing than anything else. He pulls his clothes back on and moves into the bedroom once more, grabbing a backpack and starting to fill it. Jeans and t-shirts and boxers and socks take up all of the room so he shoves his toiletries into a different pocket, nodding when he finishes.

He throws on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants and heads downstairs with his bag. His dad is home and drinking coffee and Stiles' mouth goes dry as he looks at him. "Hey, Dad." He forces himself to stand with his legs spread slightly, wincing at the sound of his voice. "So, um, I seem to be under some kind of spell or something and now I'm kind of a girl? So, I'm going to go find the pack and spend my spring break figuring out how to make my boobs go away."

Sheriff Stilinski drops his paper and sets his coffee down, leaning back in his seat and staring at Stiles. "I know you're eighteen now, but are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, Dad." Stiles nods his head nervously, shrugging his bag further up his shoulder.

A moment later, his father is hugging him. "Hey, it's okay. I always wanted a daughter."

"Dad..." Stiles leans into the hug, using his free arm to return it. "I'll stay safe as much as I can, okay?"

"You'd better." Lips press against Stiles' temple and it's that which makes him realize he's just a little shorter now. It's not much, but he feels like that's the thing that makes it real.

When he gets into his Jeep, he has to adjust the seat a little before sending a mass text that everyone needs to meet him at Deaton's. He drives off, his eyebrows furrowing sometimes to notice just how different things are for his movement. When he gets to Deaton's, he's accosted by a poodle in the parking lot who barks at him while its owner scowls at him. The dog is on a leash, so Stiles moves inside quickly, wondering if anyone will even show. He hasn't had any replies to his text, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. He's the talker. Not everyone is a listener.

Isaac is the one who finds him inside the door, his jaw clenched. "Stiles?"

Stiles licks his lips and runs his hand through his hair. "Hey, Isaac."

"Something's... different about you." Isaac approaches him, sniffing lightly. "You smell nice."

His eyes rolling, Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, arms awkward until he figures out how to work around the breasts. "That's sexual harassment."

Isaac's eyes go wide as he takes in what's in front of him and processes it. "You're a girl?"

His arms drop and Stiles nods. "Yup. Barely legal and suddenly nubile."

"I don't know if I'd call you nubile." Isaac gestures him back and Stiles follows. "You are kind of cute now. Not really my type, but... It kind of works."

Stiles doesn't know if he's supposed to have a rush of pleasure at that statement, but it does kind of warm him even if it feels like an insult to who he used to be. "Uh, thanks?"

"No problem." Isaac gestures him into a room where Deaton has just finished putting a cast on a cat's leg. "Deaton, um, let me introduce _Miss_ Stiles Stilinski?"

Deaton quirks an eyebrow and nods. "It's a pleasure." He rubs a thumb along the cat's nose and shakes his head. "I don't think the Nemeton did this, before you ask. But it's also nothing I'm familiar enough with to really just talk about. I'll do some research, though." He pauses. "Are you just female?"

"Because that's not enough?" Stiles catches the other potential meaning of the word and nods, though. "Yeah. I just woke up and suddenly I look like I was born a girl."

Deaton looks up and gestures for Isaac to let someone else in. A moment later, Derek was rushing through the door. "Stiles, what's wrong?" He stops as soon as he sees him, his nostrils going wide as he inhales. "That's... Wow."

Stiles shrugs and wraps his arms around himself again. "Yeah, so, okay. I'm a girl. Stiles the girl. So weak and helpless and lame and-"

"No." Derek shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down. "You've got different parts, but you're still the same person you were. You weren't weak and helpless before, either."

He notices that Derek doesn't say anything about him not being lame. "I guess." Derek's gaze makes Stiles shrink back a little. "Hey, um, I kind of told my dad that I was going to stay with someone during this so we could figure it all out fast." He turns to Isaac and clears his throat. "Do you think Melissa would let me stay?"

Derek shrugs. "Stay with me."

Stiles licks his lips and clears his throat, trying not to notice the way Derek's eyebrows furrow. He's only seen a few people that day, but Derek is the only one that makes him feel any different. His body is doing things he doesn't know how to deal with, but he figures it's just hormones. He's all too aware that he doesn't know as much about the female body as he wants to, but he thinks of how things have been with Isaac and Scott lately because of Allison's death and nods. "Yeah. Okay."

No one else shows up before Stiles climbs back into his Jeep and follows Derek back to his place. The loft is fixed up some since the last time Stiles had been over, but it's still the same place. Lydia had said once that it needed a serious woman's touch, but Stiles certainly wasn't going to give it that. He was there to be in the center of figuring things out, not to pick out drapes. "I guess I'll be taking the couch?" He mutters the words because he knows Derek can hear him no matter what.

"Peter's old room." Derek shrugs. "He doesn't really use it and I'd rather have you where you can... I want you comfortable. You've got enough going on. You smell like stress and that's probably not helping you."

Stiles rolls his eyes and drops his bag, licking his lips again. "Isaac said I smelled nice."

Derek's eyebrows raise and then furrow once more. "I didn't say you didn't." He pauses. "But I also didn't say that you didn't smell nice before. You'd smell better without the stress."

"I'd smell better with a shower, too." Stiles groans. "Do you mind if I take one? I kind of left the house without doing much. I didn't even have breakfast."

"Yeah. Go shower. Towels are on the rack." Derek gives him one last look and then turns and stalks off.

Stiles watches him go and tries not to notice the way his stomach seems to twist in a knot. He pulls out what he'll need and heads into the bathroom. He doesn't look down as he strips off and climbs into the shower, the water sluicing over him in a way that doesn't quite feel right. He keeps his eyes on the wall as he washes up, acting as though the body he's in isn't his own. If he had his body switched with someone else, he'd want to be respectful, and that's what this feels like to him. His arms and legs and face move as he tells them to, but it's just off enough... When he dries off afterward, he hangs the towel over the shower curtain rod and tosses on the same clothes before putting on his deodorant.

When he goes back into the living room area, his face is pink and flushed and he's wishing that the hoodie wasn't so thick. He has it pulled up to his elbows, but he still feels more than a touch too warm. To his surprise, though, Lydia is there. "Um, hey?"

"Well, you're not a supermodel, but I can work with this." She looks him over and then glances at the kitchen. "Go eat. Derek made you scrambled eggs."

Stiles walks to the kitchen as though he's in a trance. It's not until he's sitting down and actually digging in that it hits him that the twist his stomach had done at seeing Derek was back again. He wanted to believe that Lydia had brought it up, but all he thinks at looking at her now is that she's going to help him through this transition. If this ended up being something they couldn't fix, Lydia was probably going to be his best friend. She looks at him like a friend now with hardly any questioning in her eyes and he recognizes that the feeling there is not so different from what he'd felt only a few days before.

The eggs are good, if a little salty, and Stiles eats them all and drinks the glass of orange juice sitting beside his plate. Lydia stares at him. "Are you wearing Old Spice?"

He nods. "Yeah, I guess? It's what I had."

Lydia smiles. "We're going shopping. If you're going to be this cute, you should at least try to work it for a little while."

That's how he ends up getting dragged away to the mall. Derek nods at him before they go and Stiles can't help but want to stay there where it feels safer than a public place full of staring eyes. Lydia drags him to a lingerie store first and gets him measured for a bra. It's awkward, but so is everything else. When Lydia shoves several options at him and pushes him into the fitting room, the thing he's most shocked about is the fact that Lydia follows him. "Hey!"

"Do you even know how to put on a bra?" Lydia tosses her hair. "Take off your top. So you have breasts, Stiles. So do I."

Stiles sighs. "I've noticed." He sighs again and strips off the hoodie, shoving his arms back down at his sides and staring at Lydia. "Well?"

"They're nice." Lydia gives him an appraising look, but then shoves an ice blue lacy thing at him. "Put it on backward so you can see the hooks first and then turn it around and slide your arms through."

He follows directions and looks at himself in the mirror, watching as Lydia adjusts the straps and suddenly his chest looks more like what he expects to see when he looks at a woman. "Does it look okay?"

Lydia nudges him with her elbow. "It looks perfect. And, you're in luck. They sell matching panties."

"Panties?" Stiles freezes up, but he nods his assent a moment later. The way his boxers hang and bunch is distracting because it draws his attention to the change. The bra is tight around his ribs, but it's not uncomfortable and he has to admit that he likes the way it looks on him. His reflection feels less like him now and he things maybe that's a good thing. When they walk out of the store, he has two bras and ten pairs of panties with varying amounts of lace. Lydia pays for it all with a credit card and doesn't let him even offer to pay her back.

They move on to a clothing store and Stiles pauses in the doorway. "Can't I just borrow some of your stuff until this is over?"

Lydia scoffs and gestures to her own outfit. "See, Stiles, you've got that long and lanky kind of sporty build while I'm kind of high-waisted and curvy. Plus, most of my dresses would be indecently short on you."

Stiles' eyes widen. "What? Why do I need to wear dresses?"

Dragging him into the store, Lydia grins. "Because you can and no one's going to judge you. Plus, you've got the legs for it. If you're a girl for now? Embrace it. Learn what girls go through. Own your body so that you understand women for when you go back to being a guy."

It makes too much sense the way she says it, so Stiles gives in. He gets dresses and skirts and shirts made for girls and jewelry and headbands and several pairs of shoes that all have heels or wedges and then there are leggings and a single pair of jeans that are so painted on when he tries them on that Stiles is reminded of Derek. The twist in his stomach is back and he ignores it in favor of letting Lydia drag him into several other stores where he gets makeup and lotions and new soap and deodorant. He thinks they're done when Lydia drags him back out to her car, but instead they break for lunch. Stiles insists on paying for it since Lydia has gotten everything else. He gets his normal burger and curly fries, but he can't even finish them. 

Lydia makes one more stop before they head back to Derek's, but it's a doozy. He'd thought he was pretty hairless from the neck down earlier. When they leave the building, his eyebrows are sculpted and the only hair not missing is the thatch above his genitals, though it's neat now where it was slightly wild earlier. There's a gentle burn to most of his skin and he would rate it pretty high as a painful experience, but he feels smooth and sleek afterward and can't seem to stop touching his legs. He's even more amazed by Lydia if this is what she goes through.

Derek isn't there when they get back, but there is a note letting Stiles know that he'd run to the grocery store. Stiles laughs because it's difficult to even imagine Derek doing chores like that, but he figures it has to happen. Lydia makes him go put on his new clothes and follows him into the bedroom to further direct him.

When he's ready, he feels surprisingly right. He's wearing a knee-length pleated skirt and a blouse over a shirt with Wonder Woman on it and he feels kind of cute. At least, he thinks he feels cute. It's a new feeling, but it feels right. He walks out barefoot into the living room and Lydia makes him practice sitting until she's satisfied. "Okay, Stiles. Now, tonight? Masturbate. You've got this body. Learn it."

Stiles knows he's blushing by the way his face seems to be on fire. "Lydia! Not with Derek here. He'll... he'll hear. And smell."

Lydia levels a look at him, something calculating. "And has he ever said anything to anyone about that? Because, uh, I'm pretty sure Isaac didn't go months between self-love sessions. Derek's an adult." She smirks. "And now? So are you."

She leaves him there to think, but tells him to call her if he has questions. He looks at the door for a long time after watching her leave, thinking about what she'd said. He knew werewolves could hear heartbeats and smell things like they were bloodhounds, but it was true that Derek never really mentioned things like that. He guesses it's because Derek learned early that he shouldn't bring up things like that just to embarrass people. For all he knows, Derek doesn't find it embarrassing.

Derek comes in at some point later and Stiles stands up to move over to him, taking some of the bags of groceries from his hands as Derek slides the door shut behind him with one foot. His eyes meet Derek's and he licks his lips and shuffles his feet. "Um, Lydia made me into a project."

His breathing heavy, Derek lowers his bags and lifts his hands to cup Stiles' face. "You look..."

Stiles lets out a shuddery breath and lets his face press against one of Derek's palms. "It's stupid, isn't it?"

"No." Derek leans forward and brushes his lips against Stiles', his forehead pressing forward to lean against him as he pulls his lips back slightly. "You're beautiful."

Derek's breath is warm against his face and Stiles laughs because his stomach is twisting into knots and they feel amazing. "You kissed me."

Pulling back quickly, Derek runs a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have done that."

Stiles puts down his own bags. "Yes, you should have. And you should do it again."

There's a rustle of the bags as Derek brushes past them, wrapping Stiles up in strong arms and lifting him to press him against a pillar, his mouth plundering Stiles' almost immediately. Stiles' legs wrap around Derek's waist and his arms around his neck and he moves with the kiss, his tongue delving into Derek's mouth to taste him, nearly drinking in his taste.

Derek is the one who stops and pulls back. "We should put up the groceries." His breath is coming in soft gasps and his eyes are half-lidded and intense as he lowers Stiles' feet back to the ground. "I wasn't sure how long you would be staying so I stocked up."

Stiles licks his lips and tries not to notice the fact that his panties are slightly damp against him. He nods and picks up some of the bags, quickly learning how Derek organized his kitchen as he helped to put things away, smiling each time he comes across something he knows that he likes but Derek doesn't eat.

They don't talk about the kissing as they watch a movie on Derek's laptop and order Chinese that arrives right before the credits roll. They don't talk about it when they do dishes with Derek drying things that Stiles hands him. They don't talk about it when Derek's hands are suddenly on his waist and hiking him up onto the counter because they're too busy trying it again.

Derek pulls Stiles tight against him and Stiles is all too aware of how different it feels to no longer have his dick. He can feel Derek's, hot and hard against him and pushing up his skirt slightly, and he craves something he can't name as he claws at Derek's back and pulls away from his sloppy kisses to bite and lick and kiss everything else he can touch. He's in a trance, trapped in Derek's thrull, when he hears Derek say, "Let me taste you."

One part of him wants to deny Derek touching him where he hasn't even touched himself, but a much larger part is already saying, "Please!" His hips are lifted and his panties are pulled down, damp and hot against his legs and catching on one big toe before Derek lifts them to his nose and inhales before pressing Stiles back so that his head is hanging off the counter. Derek is suddenly lifting Stiles' knees and draping them over his shoulders and Stiles gasps in a breath as he spreads his legs and gets pulled toward Derek's face.

Derek is a madman from the onset. He is lips and teeth and tongue and they are targeted attacks on pleasure zones Stiles didn't know existed. Derek's stubble rubs against his inner thighs where Stiles is wet and it's the most delicious pain he's ever felt. He can smell himself now and can peg it as arousal and wonders if Derek is actually going crazy with it. Stiles only really knows that he is so wet that Derek seems to drink him in and that whatever Derek is doing is amazing and he wants it to continue.

His orgasm hits him like a jolt of electricity as Derek buries his tongue within Stiles' folds and he's ashamed of how his voice echoes. He's ready to ask Derek to stop because he knows he gets sensitive after one orgasm, but this body is unlike the one he wore yesterday and the sensitivity only seems to be a good thing this time. His body is still shaking with his pleasure when that jolt runs through him again as Derek slides one thick finger into him. 

It's only after his fourth orgasm that Derek finally pulls away, wiping his face with one hand and licking his palm afterward. Stiles' legs are jelly as he lets them settle back down again, sliding off the counter with a shaky laugh and a smile. "Um, wow."

Derek pulls him in again, but pauses a few inches from Stiles' lips, questioning him with his eyes. Stiles answers by kissing Derek hungrily, tasting himself in the furthest reaches of Derek's mouth and reveling in it, his fingers clutching at Derek's shirt to keep him close. Derek ruts against his hip, growling into Stiles' mouth, and then he stills. Stiles can see the wet spot on the front of his pants when Derek pulls away a moment later and feels proud to have been the cause. 

It only hurts a lot when Derek looks at him and his eyes go wide and he runs off toward his own bedroom. Stiles pulls a soda from the fridge and pops it open, drinking down half of it in one long swallow to try to take the taste in his mouth away, but it doesn't wash away the bitterness he's suddenly feeling. He realizes as he heads into his room that they hadn't bought any pajamas, so he pulls out one of the t-shirts he'd brought with him initially and slips it on. He brushes his teeth and wipes down his thighs before climbing into bed and closing his eyes, intending to sleep.

He's still throbbing, though. His thighs are on fire from Derek's stubble, so he gets up and finds the lotion Lydia got for him and slathers it on his thighs. The closer he gets to his panties, the warmer he feels. He remembers Lydia's words from earlier and delves his fingers into his panties, dipping his fingers into his wetness and tracing around, learning himself and the way all of him is puffy and wet and needy right now. His fingernail finds a particularly sensitive spot nestled at the top of his slit and he brushes against it again. He shudders in relief after a few more flicks and pulls his hand away. He's tempted to wipe his fingers on his thigh, but he brings them to his mouth instead, sucking them free of his taste. It's not as good mixed with lotion as it was from Derek's mouth, but it calms him somehow. Maybe Derek is just scared of how easily he'd given in to temptation. Stiles certainly is. It's only his exhaustion and recent satisfaction that let him drift off to sleep.

When he wakes in the morning, he presses a hand to his chest and sighs because he's still female. There's a certain lightness to the disappointment, though, because his thighs still burn from yesterday. He slathers them with lotion again and pulls on a sundress because he feels like it, then heads out into the living room. Derek is in the kitchen cooking and Stiles wanders toward him. "Good morning?" He's not sure why he says it like a question.

Derek looks up and smiles almost shyly, flipping French toast on a griddle. "Good morning." He gestures toward the coffee maker with his free hand. "I just make coffee. Have some."

Stiles is glad to have something to do with his hands. When he's got a cup of coffee clutched between his palms, he moves closer to Derek, his heartbeat rising. "Yesterday..." He's not sure what he wants to say, just that he wants to talk about it. The pause he gives stretches out between them and Stiles freezes up at the tension he can see in Derek's back. "I loved it." He blurts out the words because they're true, even if they only express a tiny bit of how he felt about it.

Turning toward him, Derek looks shattered. He opens his mouth like he's going to speak, but stops himself and steps toward Stiles instead, kissing him softly and nuzzling against him and inhaling sharply. He's freshly shaven, but there's still a hint of roughness to his jawline and Stiles gasps to feel it rub against him. Derek traces Stiles' lips with his thumb and smiles. "I've never felt like that before."

There's a part of that knot in Stiles' stomach that twists and holds that statement, claiming that piece of Derek for itself and growing stronger because of it. "Neither have I." He hopes that Derek can hear that he means more than just the physical, but he's not even certain whether Derek meant more than that. He hopes, though, because hope has gotten him through so many other things.

They eat French toast and bacon for breakfast, lazily drinking coffee until the pot is half gone and the sun is high in the sky. They don't talk much. They're lost in each other's eyes and staring shyly and it's ridiculous that Stiles isn't talking because silence has always made him uncomfortable. Their silence... it folds around him like a warm blanket. After a while, though, Stiles stands up from the table and moves toward the living room, grabbing up Derek's computer and starting to research. Derek joins him shortly and sits next to him with a book that he leafs through. Stiles catches words on pages that look like they might be applicable to the situation so he goes back to his screen.

After an hour of research, Stiles finds that his attention is wandering. He gets up to use the bathroom and comes back to the couch where Derek has spread his legs slightly as he reads. Stiles feels his mouth water and he licks his lips because he wants more and Derek looks like he's on display. Stiles sits down beside him, their thighs barely touching, and settles his hand on top of Derek's leg, his thumb slowly stroking over his jeans.

Derek's breath catches in his throat and he puts the book down on the coffee table, looking at Stiles with a smolder in his gaze. It's like Stiles flipped a switch. Suddenly, Derek pulls him up so that Stiles is straddling Derek's lap and groaning at the way Derek's tongue is laving up the length of his throat. They settle into kissing a moment later and Stiles goes for it this time, getting adventurous by biting Derek's lower lip and sucking on his tongue and breathing hot into his mouth. Derek groans and lets his hands dip beneath Stiles' dress, hands cupping his ass and squeezing gently. It doesn't take long before he's hard and straining beneath Stiles, his hips lifting toward the heat that Stiles was putting off. "Can it be my turn to taste you?" Stiles watches Derek's eyes as he asks the question, amused by how quickly Derek begins to nod.

It seems to take forever for Derek to shuck his pants off as Stiles moves to sit beside him on the couch, but then Derek is naked from the waist down and sitting on the couch stroking himself and Stiles has to grin. He might not know his own body any longer, but he's in something closer to familiar territory here. Derek's dick is hard and precome is beaded at the tip and Stiles looks at it for a long moment before moving to crouch down in front of him, carefully settling to the floor between Derek's knees and leaning forward so that he can press his tongue to the slit of Derek's cock, tasting the bitterness of his precome and smiling up at Derek as he delves the tip of his tongue inside, lips moving to surround the head and sucking the precome from him. He wets his lips with it and presses his tongue down against his teeth while pulling his upper lip back over his upper teeth before taking the head into his mouth.

His fingers grip at the base of Derek's cock and he starts to stroke along him as his tongue moves to trace under Derek's foreskin. Derek bucks against him and Stiles stills for a moment, swallowing down around Derek before starting to work his head back and forth, his lips a tight band stroking the first few inches of his shaft. He's seen a lot of blow jobs in porn, but he knows that watching something doesn't guarantee skill in it. Derek is groaning, though, looking utterly defeated, and his hands come up to slide into Stiles' hair. He's not being held in place, just seeming to give Derek somewhere to put his hands, and it makes him redouble his efforts. His eyes are watering because he doesn't want to come up for air and Derek's scent is heavy in Stiles' nostrils. His saliva is everywhere and his jaw is starting to ache, but it's making him feel hot again. He squirms in place at Derek's feet even as he pulls back to tongue the slit of Derek's cock again. He pulls off with a pop and takes a few deep breaths, grinning. "Come in my mouth?"

When he slides his lips back over the head of Derek's cock, his hand stroking faster, Derek spreads his legs further and Stiles lets his free hand move to his balls, rolling them softly and cupping them in his palm as they start to pull up, sucking harder and bobbing his head faster. It's only a moment later that Derek groans out, "Stiles!" before thrusting his hips up once more and coming, filling Stiles' mouth so fast that he can barely swallow it all down. It's still all over his lips as he pulls away, panting roughly and meeting Derek's eyes. Derek lets his head lean back and reaches down to grab Stiles' hands, pulling him upright and pulling him back onto the couch. "You just..." He doesn't finish the thought, just plunders Stiles' mouth again. 

Stiles squirms again beside Derek, one hand pressing against his thigh, but slowly edging upward. Derek's kisses are taking what was a manageable level of arousal and turning it into a need. He pulls away to lick his lips, meeting Derek's gaze and asking softly, "Touch me?"

Derek pulls Stiles sundress up and off and presses him back against the couch, pulling Stiles' bra up and latching on to one nipple with his teeth, flicking it back and forth with his tongue. Meanwhile, his right hand slides down Stiles' abdomen and two fingers slip slowly inside of him while Derek's thumb searches above, finding that sensitive spot that makes Stiles gasp and rubbing at it roughly with his callused flesh. Stiles had heard of nipples being an exciting thing, but his own playing had never done what Derek was doing to him. Both of his nipples were hard and wet as Derek moved between them and Derek's fingers scissored inside of him, stroking things Stiles couldn't name. That feeling of pleasure built inside of him this time, and when he exploded with it, he was suddenly exhausted as though he's done a whole lot of lacrosse training. He shuddered slightly as Derek pulled his hand away and kissed the center of Stiles' chest, then shuddered again a moment later. His orgasm was an earthquake and these were aftershocks tremoring through his body. A soft laugh issued from him and he pulled down his bra awkwardly, looking for his dress. "So, um, at least if I have to be a girl, I'm having fun?"

Pulling on his pants, Derek pauses and looks him over. "How much do you want to go back to the way things were?"

Shaking his head, Stiles on the sundress again and looks away. "I don't really know?" He tries to give Derek a meaningful look, unsure if he manages. "I don't actually know yet how much has changed."

Derek buttons his pants and picks up the book from the table again, sitting against the arm of the couch and settling in. "Hasn't everything?" 

Stiles isn't sure, really. It's been a day and a half and the whole thing has been a whirlwind. He recognizes, though, that the knot in his stomach has been there for far longer than that. He's not sure when it started, but he can feel it getting stronger. He wonders if it's because he's only been pulling one side of it. When he was suddenly a girl, Derek wanted him and pulled that knot tight. The thought of going back to being a boy makes it feel like they've knotted a noose.

He pulls the laptop back toward him and works to research more. He's not sure how long it's been, but at some point Derek's toes dig under his leg. When he turns to look at Derek, he gets a smile that melts him. He returns it, but turns back to the computer. If it's going to end, he'd rather get on with it. And if it isn't? Well, he'd like to know that, too.

They order a pizza for lunch and Derek switches books twice, but it's mid-evening when Stiles finally shoves the laptop away and gets up to stretch. His stomach growls and he looks at Derek to see if he noticed. Derek stretches his arms above his head, his shirt revealing a line of tantalizing stomach, and then he stands up. "Let's go out."

Stiles laughs. "Sure."

They end up at a steakhouse and it's fun, even though Stiles stumbles twice in the wedged heels he wears. They crack open peanut shells at the table and throw them at each other. They order off of a special set menu that gets them two meals, an appetizer, and dessert. They talk while they wait between courses, and they slip in words between bites of food when it does come to the table. Stiles drops one of the dessert forks, so Derek feeds him with the other. It's comfortable but confusing because Stiles still doesn't get what has actually changed. He's still Stiles, right? Hadn't Derek said that himself? So why had none of this happened before? He stops asking himself questions because the answers don't seem promising.

That night, they brush their teeth side by side at the sink and Derek kisses him when they both have minty fresh breath. "Sleep in my bed?" Derek looks like he's sared to ask the question.

Stiles buries his head against Derek's chest and mutters, "Okay."

Derek plays Big Spoon well, one arm looping under the pillow and the other resting softly on Stiles' hip. They talk a little more about nothing and Derek jokes that he thinks he still has peanut shells in his hair and then it's calm and quiet and the sounds of Beacon Hills filtering in through the window lull them to sleep.

Sunlight wakes Stiles the next morning and he shuts his eyes tightly, crossing his legs a little to check that he was still a girl. Derek's arm was slung over his chest and holding him in place, but nothing seemed to have changed. He wondered how long he'd need to be a girl before he'd wake up and not check. He slipped out from under Derek's arm and moved to the bathroom, climbing into the shower after he peed and turning it up as hot as he could stand. He was just starting to wash his hair when Derek joined him in the shower, his fingers coming up to replace Stiles' own scrubbing at his scalp. 

They wash each other slowly, thoroughly; their hands learning the lines of the other's form. They share soapy kisses and Stiles strokes Derek to completion, pressing against him afterward to spread his come between them and laughing as they wash it off a moment later. They wrapp towels around each other when they're done, and Stiles says against the towel he'd just dried his hair with, "Love you". Derek pulls him in for a kiss and they stand there in the steam of the bathroom, holding each other, until the fog of the mirror clears.

Stiles pulls away first to get dressed and comes out in the painted-on jeans and a tight shirt with the Batman symbol emblazoned across it. He wears a pair of high-heeled sandals with it just because and feels ridiculous, but kind of sexy. As a boy, there weren't many options for fashion. He had gone for colors and prints because they were at least something that wasn't boring. Girl clothes had variety and made him feel like his too-long limbs weren't actually a problem, but an asset. People look at him now and they listen, but the silence doesn't need as much filling now so he doesn't talk as much. Derek can't seem to look away and that's maybe the best part of all.

They go out for breakfast and get crepes and coffee before heading over to Deaton's to find that no news is just no news. Scott is there and they exchange a few words, but Stiles can tell that Scott doesn't know how to deal with him. When he calls Stiles "dude", he apologizes and the conversation seems to end even though they continue to talk for a few more minutes. 

Derek takes Stiles to the mall because it's there and Stiles remembers he needs actual pajamas. What Derek ends up buying him is something that looks like a bra trailing a yard of lace that has matching panties. The look Derek gives him as Stiles takes the bag from the cashier makes him weak in the knees. He uses it as an excuse to put his arm around Derek's waist, smirking when Derek's comes to wrap around his shoulders.

They have a late lunch at a local restaurant that's a little more bar than anything else. Someone sends Stiles a drink and Derek growls, then picks up the drink and downs it, smirking at the man who had sent it. Afterward, Stiles drags Derek to a drug store where he buys candy and, with an increase of his heart rate, condoms. He hasn't been to a doctor (Deaton doesn't count), so he doesn't know how much he's actually changed. The way he's headed with Derek, they're almost to the point of needing them because the thought of being a pregnant woman just... No. His mind won't actually go there. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Derek makes pasta for dinner and Stiles helps, though they can't seem to actually stop touching each other until the food is on the table. They eat and play footsie and then put leftovers away before Derek wipes a smudge of sauce off of Stiles' lower lip. Stiles excuses himself and changes into the nightie, tucking a single condom in his hand before exiting the bathroom. Derek's in the bathroom and Stiles feels himself tremble with nerves. He wants this more than most things and even though neither of them have said anything about it, he knows his virginity is going to be forfeit tonight with a finality he's ready to accept. 

Letting out a long exhale, Stiles pads his way over to the bed and crawls on top of it. The sheets are black satin and he wants to tease Derek about them, but he finds his mouth otherwise occupied and Derek pulls him across the sheets and on top of him, kissing Stiles like his life depends on it. They make out for a while until Stiles is rubbing himself against the length of Derek's cock through their underwear and his toes are curling with desire. He mouths "Please?" against Derek's neck and then he's flipped over onto his back and Derek is pulling his panties off and tossing them somewhere and burying his face between Stiles' legs again, fingers and tongue working against him until his wetness is dripping down his thighs. He says "Please!" again and shoves the condom into Derek's hand, watching as he opens the package and rolls it down his length before positioning himself between Stiles' knees.

Derek strokes Stiles' knees as he brings them up slightly. "I love you."

Stiles licks his lips and rolls his hips because he can just feel Derek's cock sliding through the wetness on his thighs and he wants this like Christmas morning. "I know," he says and lets his legs wrap around Derek's waist, pulling him closer. Derek reaches down and positions himself before sliding slowly inside of him, groaning. Stiles moans softly at the sensation of Derek filling him and nods. "I do love you. And I'll love you more if you move."

Taking the hint, Derek does move, though it's slow and gentle at first as Derek works toward a rhythm. His mouth is latched onto Stiles' neck and drawing a bruise to the surface; his hands are everywhere at once. Stiles tries to catalog everything that's happening, but he's locked in the moment. Everything feels amazing, and there's a connection between them that makes it all the better. When Derek finally hits his stride, he ends up banging his head against the wall from where their motions had made them slide across the satin sheets. He laughs and Stiles joins him even while he clutches Derek's shoulders. In unspoken agreement, Derek rolls over onto his back and Stiles climbs on top of him. He has more control there, his hips rolling and canting as he tries to keep his knees in place, but Derek isn't a slouch. He works his hips upward from below Stiles and his thumb finds Stiles' clit and strokes it and Stiles twitches with his first orgasm before taking a deep breath and upping his pace. He's coming almost completely off of Derek's cock with every stroke and then plunging back down. Derek is gasping with each movement.

When Derek stills below him, his shoulders tense and a line of tendon visible in his neck, Stiles leans forward and kisses him, grinding against Derek until Stiles grunts with his own orgasm and falls forward. Derek catches him at the last moment and they spend a lazy moment kissing before Stiles bursts out laughing. "Okay, seriously? These sheets are actually horrible for sex."

Derek rolls them over over their sides and smiles. "It was still good, though." He traces his fingers along Stiles' thigh. "Right?"

"Yeah." Stiles lets himself lay there for a few more seconds before standing up, his nose wrinkling as he pulls off the nightie. "I think I'm going to go back to the t-shirt and panties. This... isn't that comfortable."

Taking off the condom, Derek smirks. "You're sexy in that, too." They get ready for bed and fall back together on top of the sheets, curled toward each other and letting out sleepy sighs of satisfaction. Stiles is asleep before he can even think to try.

When he wakes up in the morning, his breath comes easier and he looks down and lets out a shaky sigh. No more breasts and hello morning wood pressed firmly against Derek's thigh. Derek wakes up then and notices and is out of the bed before Stiles can say anything. "You're a guy again," he says dumbly.

Stiles sits up and pulls the blanket up to his chest, then pulls his knees to his chest, too. "Yeah."

Derek doesn't saying anything else, just leaves the room and leaves Stiles sitting there. The silence is deafening, but Stiles doesn't have words to fill it. He sits there for a while, frozen in thought, before going to Peter's old room and digging out a pair of boxers and a pair of jeans.

They don't talk about it over cereal and coffee. They don't talk about it as Stiles packs up a box of all of his girl clothes and drags it down to his Jeep, then comes back up to get the bag he'd brought with him initially. He pauses at the door, one hand against it, and looks over at Derek who's washing dishes alone and the knot in his stomach is suddenly part of a noose that's wrapped around his heart. "I'll let Deaton know," he says finally. When Derek nods and doesn't say anything, Stiles lets himself out and goes down to his Jeep and drives off, waiting until he's halfway home before pulling over into a church parking lot and crying.

When he makes it home, his eyes are still red and he wonders why it is that the universe likes to fuck with him to often. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. His pattern is starting to actually look like something and Stiles isn't sure he likes it. 

He calls Deaton and doesn't even register whatever cryptic things the man might have said. He calls Lydia and asks her to come get the clothes. When she refuses because they're not her size, he goes back through the box and takes out the panties. Everything else he brings down to Goodwill and donates. He keeps the lotion and soaps and tucks them away in the bathroom. He spends the rest of the night watching television that doesn't even register in his mind and sneaks a shot of his dad's whiskey before crawling into bed. He cries himself to sleep.

The next day is better. He doesn't cry, but he knows he looks like shit because his eyes are still red-rimmed even when he goes over to see Scott and Isaac after dinner. They play an Oddball match in Halo 3 and Stiles can't help but picture the skull as a heart drained of blood. He wants to blame someone or something, but he really can't fault Derek for not liking him just like this. Maybe it's a werewolf thing. He tries to think about anything else. In the end, he goes home and pulls up Wikipedia and goes to a random article, link clicking until it's three in the morning and he knows more about berries than he ever thought possible. Sleep comes after that, but it doesn't come easily.

He spends the rest of spring break studying because there was only another month and a half of school left and then he'd be graduating. When school is back in session, he feels removed from it. Lydia is friendly with him and tries to draw him into things, but he's quiet now and always inside his head. Even Coach Finstock notices that he's changed. Derek doesn't call.

Nothing important happens until finals, but Stiles breezes through them because he's turned to his books instead of people. If he thinks too much about the people he's friends with and where they lead, the noose around his heart tightens, so he just doesn't. He gets his cap and gown and does his graduation practice and then it's suddenly graduation day.

They mangle his name so horribly before he goes on stage that even he's not sure they're talking about him. His dad is in the audience, though, clapping loudly and taking pictures and Stiles forces on a smile as he shakes hands with the principal and moves his tassel and clutches his diploma to his side. Scott had tried to talk him into doing some kind of prank, but he's kept it simple. Greenberg had been naked under his gown and had stripped it off before streaking across stage. That was enough excitement.

When they're all packing up to go home, he sees a flash of black out of the corner of his eye and turns to see Derek across the auditorium. The noose pulls so tight he can't breathe and he leans against a chair and tries not to throw up because he's blocked it out so much that it's all held back and everything seems to rush out at once. He blacks out after a while and wakes up at home on the couch, still wearing his crappy graduation gown.

He doesn't leave the house for two days, even though people invite him out. There are parties going on and he couldn't care less. He goes out on the third day to get ice cream because at this point he doesn't care if his dad manages to sneak a few bites. He wants the man to live a long and healthy life, but he has to be willing to do it for himself at least a little.

When he's in the store, though, he's got one arm digging back through the Ben & Jerry's when he hears someone clear their throat and he looks up and there's Derek. Stiles grabs a pint of something, maybe Cherry Garcia, and turns on his heel to walk toward the front of the store. He gets in line and tries to imagine that there's some kind of cloaking shield around him, but it does work. Derek follows him and puts a hand on his shoulder and Stiles lets out a muffled sob because the touch is gentle but it still hurts so much and he's not sure why. "Congratulations on graduating."

Stiles takes a step forward and doesn't reply, choosing to leaf through the plastic fobs on his keychain to find the loyalty card for that store. He finds it and holds it up for the cashier, stepping forward to stand in front of the debit card reader. When the cashier tells him his total, he goes to pull out his wallet, but Derek shoves a $10 bill at her and tells her to give the change to charity before tossing the ice cream in a bag and grabbing Stiles' hand, pulling him out of the store. When they get outside, Stiles pulls his hand away and grabs the bag from Derek's hand, stalking off toward his Jeep. Derek follows him, saying softly, "Stiles, wait."

Pausing at his door, Stiles unlocks the Jeep and looks up at Derek, sighing. "Why?"

Derek looks lost, his hands coming to rest on the hood of the Jeep. "Because I don't like how we left things."

"It's certainly taken you long enough to say anything about it." Stiles climbs into the Jeep and starts it up. He pauses for a moment, then looks at Derek's face. The noose eases a little and Stiles sighs. "Look, I'll come over to your place and we'll talk, okay?"

"Thank you." Derek pushes off from the Jeep and Stiles watches him walk over to his car. With a deep sigh, he shifts into gear and pulls out of his parking spot.

He gets through a few traffic lights before Derek and gets there first, hauling his ice cream up and waiting outside Derek's door. He doesn't have to wait long before Derek joins him and opens the door and they both walk in. The sound of the door closing behind them is loud enough to make Stiles wince as he moves to the freezer and shoves his ice cream inside before turning to look at Derek. "So, talk."

"Why did you leave that day?" Derek's knuckles are white as he grips the back of a chair, his eyes not quite meeting Stiles'.

Stiles moves over to the couch, sitting down and taking a shaky breath because he remembers more things he's tried to block out. "Because you ran away. It seemed pretty obvious that me as a girl was awesome and amazing and the me as a guy wasn't worth the effort."

Derek lets his fingers unfurl from the chair and joins Stiles on the couch, though as far away as he can be. "Because I was scared." He inhales sharply and stares Stiles down. "I didn't know how much of what you felt was because of you being suddenly a girl or if there had actually been a spell involved and I'd just taken advantage of you or what. Your heart was racing and I didn't know what to say because I realized that the only reason you made me crazy like you were was because I knew I could have you, but that it didn't matter because I'd wanted you like that for months and months anyway and I couldn't say no to anything. Not for you."

Taking a deep breath, Stiles leans against the couch. "So. You want me and I want you and we've got a whole summer ahead of us to work things out, right?"

A smile curls the corners of Derek's mouth and he moves closer. "Really?"

Sitting up again, Stiles moves to straddle Derek's lap and lets out a heady sigh as he settles into place and it feels right. "Yeah. Although, we should probably make sure we're compatible like this." He lean forward and presses his mouth against Derek's, drawing him into a kiss.

Their tongues tangle and it's so like it was before with just the tiniest hints of difference that Stiles relaxes and lets his hands trace against Derek's body while grinding down against him. That bit is different, but Derek doesn't seem to mind and that lets Stiles stand and start to pull off his pants. Derek joins him and they fumble their way to the bedroom where Stiles grins and falls back against the bed and lets his fingers trail over the sheets. They're still black, but they now seem to be cotton.

Derek pulls Stiles' pants off and then takes his own off, then pulls off his shirt and looks expectantly at Stiles until he shucks his as well. There's a lull, but it's that comfortable silence that Stiles had missed so much, and Derek fills it with rummaging through a bedside drawer and pulling over a condom and lubricant. 

The next several minutes are a little awkward as Derek learns how much lube is enough and Stiles learns that he needs to tell Derek to add another finger in, but it's still kind of thrilling because they're finally doing things in a way that makes sense.

When Derek sheathes himself with a condom and slicks it with lube, Stiles reaches up to stroke the side of his face. "I do love you. That's never changed."

Leaning down, Derek captures Stiles' mouth in a kiss as he slowly presses into him, going at a torturous pace that has Stiles squirming below him. "It hasn't changed for me, either," Derek says as he straightens up and hauls Stiles' knees over his shoulders. "You ready?"

"Definitely." Stiles lets his arms splay out beside him on the bed as Derek starts to rock into him and it's strange. It feels good, but maybe not great, though Derek seems to be loving it. While prepping him, Derek had hit his prostate and made Stiles groan, but he wasn't coming close enough to it now to matter. With a few more wiggles, though, Stiles gets a pillow under his hips and the angle changes and suddenly he's overwhelmed.

It's different, as a guy. It's a faster build that burns brighter and Stiles does everything he can to be a part of the moment, but he's cataloging now. He knows how many scratches there are on his back and how many hickies are turning purple on his shoulders and neck and he knows that Derek is close to coming because Stiles can hear the hitch in his breath. Stiles grips himself and strokes, blissed out already even without his climax. Derek slams into him a moment later, his hips echoing it a few times until Derek is hardly moving. It's enough for Stiles, though, as he strokes himself faster, especially when Derek pulls out and grabs Stiles' hands before taking the head of Stiles' cock into his mouth and sucking hard. He bucks against Derek's chin and groans as he comes, his hands stick with precome anyway. "Wow."

Derek swallows Stiles' come even as he's pulling off his condom and throwing it away. "Yeah." Derek wipes the corner of his mouth and smiles. "Compatible enough?"

Stiles gets up from the bed and grins. "Yup. And now we're going to eat that pint of Cherry Garcia and we're going to cuddle because I missed that."

"So did I." Derek leans back against the pillows and Stiles heads to the kitchen to get the ice cream and two spoons. He comes back a moment later and climbs under the sheets with Derek, filling the comfortable silence with nothing but smiles and laughter and ice cream.

When Stiles wakes up from their nap, it's with a heavy weight on his chest and he smiles as he looks down. Derek's head is pillowed there and he looks peaceful and it's crazy how much better he feels to know that this is a thing that his life has now. The pattern of his life still isn't entirely clear, but maybe it's changing into something that can be.

Derek wakes up a moment later and smiles sleepily up at Stiles, his hand coming up to grab Stiles', gripping them together. He doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to. Stiles nods and lets his other fingers slip into Derek's hair, stroking his scalp as he smiles. "This is kind of perfect, you know."

Nuzzling against him, Derek just smiles and relaxes. Stiles licks his lips and tries to remember that they've got all summer. He realizes that if he's really lucky, he'll also have next spring break. For once, he feels lucky and hopes against hope that it holds.


End file.
